THE MONSTER THEY CREATED
A Small, Fragile Beginning
A delicate porcelain plate slipped from Reika's trembling hands and shattered against the cold, unyielding floor. The sound barely had time to settle before another sharper noise followed—her mother's scream.
"You ungrateful brat!"The words struck harder than any slap.
Reika's small frame curled in on itself as she sat on the wooden floor of her dimly lit room, her breath shallow. Tears burned in her eyes, but she forced them back. She had learned that crying only made it worse.
Heavy footsteps approached. A countdown to pain.
The slap landed hard against her cheek, snapping her head to the side. A ringing sound filled her ears.
"Do you think you can do whatever you want?"her father's voice thundered, thick with disappointment.
Her mother scoffed. "We spend so much money raising you, and this is what we get? Look at those other kids—so obedient, so perfect. But you?"
Another slap. The sting burned deep.
"You are a mistake."
The words cut deeper than any wound ever could.
"I should have never given birth to you." Her mother's fingers twisted into Reika's hair, yanking her head back.
Reika gasped, pain jolting through her scalp, but she did not scream. She had learned—screaming only made them angrier.
Her father laughed cruelly. "You think your tears mean anything? Cry all you want, but they won't save you."
The grip in her hair loosened. Her mother stepped away, leaving Reika on the floor like discarded trash.
She did not move.
Could not move.
Her body ached, but the pain inside her chest was far worse.
She turned her head slightly, peering out the small window. Across the street, a girl sat with her mother, laughing. A mother who held her close. A mother who wiped away her daughter's tears instead of causing them.
Reika clenched her fists, nails digging into her palms.
"Why was I born into this family?"
Tears welled in her green eyes, but her face remained eerily blank.
A deep rage slithered through her, coiling around her heart like a serpent.
"I will kill them. I will destroy them for giving me this miserable childhood."
Teenage Reika – The Death of Emotion
Pain had become her oldest companion.
A whip cracked against her bare skin.
She did not flinch.
"How dare you enter that competition without our permission?!"her mother's voice was shrill with rage.
Reika stared at the ground, unmoving. Silent.
Her mother's slap came fast, hard.
"Say something! Are you mute, huh?!"
Nothing.
Reika's lips did not part.
She had forgotten how to speak.
She had forgotten how to cry.
Another slap. And another. And another.
Still, she did not react.
Something inside her had broken long ago.
She had realized that emotions were a weakness. If she got angry, they would beat her harder. If she cried, they would mock her pain. If she dared to hope, they would crush it beneath their feet.
So she had stopped.
Stopped feeling. Stopped reacting.
Stopped dreaming.
She no longer knew what love was.
She only knew control.
One day, she would leave. One day, she would rise.
And when that day came…
She would make them pay.
For everything.
The Path of the Blade
Reika tightened the wraps around her hands, her sharp green eyes focused.
Two days.
She had two days to prove herself. To win. To move forward.
Failure was not an option.
She stepped out of the barracks, her boots crunching against the dirt.
"Reika!"
She barely had time to turn before Ishigo appeared, his usual scowl already in place.
Right behind him, Daigo bounded forward like an excited puppy.
"My brother! Good morning!"Daigo grinned, throwing an arm around Ishigo's shoulders.
Ishigo scoffed, shoving him off. "Must you always be so irritating?"
Daigo only grinned wider. "It's called bonding. Maybe try it sometime?"
Reika let out a quiet breath, barely listening to their bickering. She had no patience for distractions.
The three of them walked toward the massive Training Center, where the scent of steel and sweat thickened the air.
Inside, a sea of warriors stood in formation, their sharp gazes locked onto the front. Rows upon rows of swords glistened under the dim light. The ground beneath them was hard-packed dirt, scarred from past battles.
A tall man in black armor stepped forward. His presence alone silenced the murmurs.
"All trainees, stand in line,"his voice boomed.
Reika and the others fell into position.
"There are currently 100 Kageshiki," the trainer continued, his cold gaze sweeping over them. "Twelve died in the underwater training."
A whisper spread through the ranks.
"The number keeps dropping," someone murmured.
Reika clenched her fists. That's the nature of this world. If you're weak, you die.
"Today's training will focus on swordsmanship," the trainer said. "At the end of the session, you will be tested. Those who pass will move forward. Those who fail… will stay behind."
The weight of his words pressed heavy on their shoulders.
Wooden swords were distributed.
Reika gripped hers, feeling its rough texture. Heavier than she expected, but not unwieldy.
"Ha! Watch this!"
Daigo spun his sword dramatically, nearly dropping it.
Ishigo sighed. "You'll cut your own leg off before you touch an enemy."
Daigo smirked. "That's called unpredictability."
Reika barely paid them any attention.
The trainer stepped forward, unsheathing his own sword with effortless grace.
"Watch carefully,"he commanded.
He raised his sword. The air around him stilled.
Then—
A single slash.
The wooden dummy in front of him split cleanly in two.
No wasted movement. No unnecessary force.
Perfect. Precise. Deadly.
"This is the true art of the blade,"the trainer said, his voice steady, controlled—just like his sword. "A true swordsman does not swing wildly. Every movement must be intentional."
Reika's pulse quickened. This is it. This is what I need.
"Now,"the trainer said, his eyes sharp. "Show me what you've learned."
And so, the training began.
The Swordmaster's Path
The hall echoed with the clash of wood against wood.
Step. Slash. Retract. Repeat.
Reika gripped her sword, adjusting her stance.
Feet steady. Hands firm. Control your breathing.
She swung. The motion was clean, but lacked precision. She adjusted and tried again.
Beside her, Ishigo moved like a predator—cold, controlled, efficient. His strikes held no hesitation.
Daigo, on the other hand—
"Hyaa!"He swung wildly, nearly toppling forward.
Ishigo sighed. "You're hopeless."
Daigo smirked. "Or maybe I'm just making you think that."
The trainer's voice cut through their banter.
"Again. Faster."
Reika exhaled and swung. This time, it felt right.
The motion was sharp. Intentional. Controlled.
The rhythm of training consumed them.
Sweat dripped down their faces, but no one stopped. Their bodies screamed in protest, but the trainer's voice kept them moving.
"Again."
By the time they paired up, their hands were raw.
Reika faced Ishigo. His amber eyes studied her.
"Don't hold back," she said.
"I wasn't planning to."
Their swords clashed, sparks of friction burning between them.
She blocked. Countered. Analyzed.
The intensity in the training hall grew.
The trainer watched them, arms crossed.
Good.
They were no longer just trainees.
They were becoming warriors.